Late-Night Laughter
by Lemon Zinger
Summary: A joke-swap starts one late evening featuring our favorite detective, doctor, and Scotland Yard inspector.


A knock at our door made me cease my reading and glance up as the door opened. I chuckled a little as Lestrade came in, dripping wet and shivering, glaring profusely at Holmes.

"You found Ronaldson I take it?" Holmes inquired absentmindedly staring into the fire that we had roaring in the sitting room to keep out the night's chill.

"You bloody – You – How dare you send us to go hunt down your man for you when you can't even be coaxed out of your comfy armchair!" Lestrade hissed.

Holmes scowled back at the inspector, suddenly angry at the accusation. "I was prevented coming!" He whined, sending me a pointed look while he was at it.

Lestrade turned on me and I rose, fetching him a blanket and beckoning him to sit before the fire while I got him a glass of brandy.

"Lestrade, you do not have to live with Holmes when he is sick, please understand my desperate desire to keep him from over-exerting his taxed body at present." I explained, trying to reason with my friend.

Lestrade chuckled. "Forgiven, of course, Doctor."

"You think this is some sort of joke?" Holmes asked, looking appalled at us as I reclaimed my seat.

"Speaking of jokes, I heard a rather good one the other day: a man goes for lunch to a reputable establishment seeking a salad. To his dismay, upon finding a button in his meal, he angrily calls the waiter over to complain. The waiter, being a rather cheeky fellow tells him it is part of the dressing!"

As Lestrade and I descended into hearty laughter, Holmes sank further into his chair and pouted in the subtle way he does, but I ignored him, deciding to force him out of his sulking by providing my own joke.

"I heard another one: why is the devil riding a mouse like one and the same thing?" I asked.

I watched Lestrade's brow furrow in concentration as he mouthed the question over, trying to puzzle out the answer. After a moment he shook his head. "Well, tell us." He encouraged me.

"Because it's syn-on-y-mous." I answered, punctuating each syllable so they could comprehend the joke.

Lestrade laughed aloud, but Holmes remained in solemn silence, even if I did see the corners of his mouth twitch just a little.

As if he knew my plot, Lestrade started up again. "Who is the greatest chicken-killer in all of Shakespeare's plays?"

I thought about it for a moment, trying to go over each of the plays in my mind, but could come up with no logical answer. "Holmes do you know?" I asked, giving him a look.  
"No indeed, grace us with your witty answer, dear inspector." Holmes said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"MacBeth, for he did murder most foul." Lestrade said with a smile.

I laughed, feeling rather silly for not figuring that one out. "Oh common Holmes, surely you must know one joke, even if you are in the process of trying to clear it from your attic." I probed. Lestrade, confused by my reference to one of our early conversations, narrowed his brow, but to my great astonishment and delight, Holmes opened his mouth to join in the fun.

"Why is a manuscript always called an 'M.S.'?" He asked, his eyes glinting with a spark I had come to know as a sign of his witticism coming to the fore.

"Well, I don't know... Have you got any idea Doctor? You're a writer after all." Lestrade asked.

"I haven't the foggiest idea, so come on Holmes, give." I pressed.

"Because that is the state in which an editor finds it." Came his reply.

Lestrade suddenly grew serious, seeming concerned the joke had been offensive, but after a moment, I laughed. "Clever Holmes, I suppose this does not apply to your own pamphlets?"

"Of course not."

Lestrade joined in my laughter at this show of arrogance we had come to accept in Holmes' nature, and I showed no offense whatsoever. I knew my manuscripts were not perfect. "Well, if every author was perfect the first time through, editors would become quite unnecessary. Therefore, our imperfections are a matter of economy." I shot back in good humor.

We all shared a laugh at this and just when we began to quite down, Lestrade told another. "What kind of customer's do pawnbrokers like?"

Holmes and I were both silent for a moment before I chanced a guess. "The poor ones?"

"The ones without any redeeming qualities." Lestrade corrected.

I waited until I could catch my breath from laughing before continuing. "If all the seas were dried up, what would Neptune say?"

They thought for a moment before shrugging and shaking their heads.  
"I really haven't got a notion." I answered.

"What letters did the cook write in the bottom of the flour barrel?" Holmes asked.

Lestrade and I exchanged completely puzzled looks before Holmes finally supplied us with the answer: "O, I, C, U, R, M, T."

"I would not have gotten that.." Lestrade answered before he gave us another problem. "What is the difference between a tube and a foolish Dutchman?"

I thought for a moment before shaking my head, but Holmes reasoned it out. "One is a hollow cylinder while the other is a silly Hollander."

"Right!" Lestrade said as he laughed. There was suddenly a knock on the sitting room door and when we beckoned the guest to enter we beheld the sight of Mrs. Hudson, dressed in her nightgown looking very angry and somehow intimidating.

"Gentlemen, it is time for decent folk to be asleep. If I hear any more noise out of you before morning, there shall be no decency." She said, looking very serious.

She slowly closed the door, but before it was all the way shut I almost laughed, and barely managed to stifle it with a fist pressed to my mouth. The door reopened and she gave us all a final warning look before she closed the door and we heard her descend down the stairs.

"Why is our landlady the nicest woman in the world?" Holmes asked. We both gave him puzzled looks, hardly daring to breath. "She always strikes with the soft end of the broom."

There was a mad scramble to stifle the forthcoming laughter on the nearest blanket, pillow, or clothing as we tried to get over the fit of giggles. When all of us had calmed down enough to slowly emerge from whatever depths we had plunged our faces into, we exchanged looks for a moment before bursting into chuckles and being forced to once again muffle our laughter.

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_A/N: Yes, I fully realize I haven't updated much lately... some personal issues + job transition. I do intend to knock out some remaining stories that have been brought to my attention. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


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